


Falling Blossoms

by MotelsandDiners



Category: Bleach
Genre: Byakuya should know better, Characters denying feelings, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Love Confessions, Renji's just hopeless, Rukia ships you and Byakuya, cuteness, oblivious characters, one sided feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotelsandDiners/pseuds/MotelsandDiners
Summary: For everything there is a season, and in that season lies either rebirth or death. Rejection, or love. Friendship or rivalry. For every season, there is a coin that must be flipped. Or in this case, a blossom that either endures, or wilts away, petal by petal. Now, the real question is: who is the blossom of this story?





	1. Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. All I know is that I've watched almost 6 seasons of Bleach and I adore both Byakuya and Renji. And this short story....just happened. Completely without my permission. Wish me luck!

Completely besotted, absolutely head over heels, blinded by it. Puppy-eyed, hopelessly enamored.

These are the things that cross his mind as he watches you from across the square, training diligently, arduously. He knows why you train so hard, why you push yourself beyond feasible limits. More than once you’ve ended up in the infirmary as a result of your own work ethic. No one is making you train day and night, no one is urging you to get stronger.

No one but yourself. He’d admire you for it, save for the sole reason you fight.

You fight for the admiration, the attention, the respect of the captain. Because you are-

“Jeez, Renji, stop staring at her like that,” Rukia scolds him, seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He hadn’t even heard her he was so busy brooding.

“Like what?” He grouches, scowling down the two feet of difference between them. A spike in your spiritual pressure has him glancing away from Rukia for a second. Leaves dance in the wind around you, wisps of your spirit swirling in sparking tendrils.

“Like you plan on cutting her head off in her sleep.” Rukia frowns, looking your way. If she knew anything about you, you’ve probably been out here since before sunrise. That’s dedication, who cared what it was about.

Renji sighs, a hot burst of air blown straight down on top of his friend’s head. “I’m not planning anything-“

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Rukia interrupts him, quirking a smile. Renji’s obvious, painfully. She can’t believe you haven’t noticed the red-haired lieutenant’s feelings. Then again, considering your own feelings…would it even matter if you knew?

“Tell her what?” Renji grumps, avoiding Rukia’s stare. Lightning crackles and roars, and he snaps his head sideways to look at you. Engulfed in dancing, swaying strands of spiky electricity, the air buzzing. The ground vibrates underneath his feet, rumbling with your strength and the intensity of your spiritual pressure.

“You and her both are completely hopeless.” Rukia sighs fondly, folding her arms over her chest. Renji, doomed to fawn over you, who isn’t the least bit interested in him. And you, enraptured and awed with her brother, her brother who probably doesn’t even know you exist.

Renji takes the unspoken rejection as well as you’d expect him to: he pouts, and sulks and broods, and boards up those feelings behind a castle of flimsy cards. Rukia knows that Renji will never tell you, not of his own volition; he needs a shove. A reason.

Rukia also knows you’ll never confront Byakuya with your own feelings. It isn’t that you’re scared, maybe it’s just that you theorize he won’t give you the time of day. He doesn’t seem capable of feeling that way about someone, or feeling much at all. Most everyone can count on one hand the occasions, the rare occurrences of Byakuya looking remotely human. Showing some semblance of emotion.

Rukia feels sorry for the both of you, how unfair your romantic endeavors are, how unsteady and weak the walls are that you’ve both put your hearts behind.

“The only one that’s hopeless is her,” Renji snorts, mood falling like a rock down a mountain. “I mean, doesn’t she know how pointless it is?” He listens to the air crack, and pop, and sizzle, watches spidery fissures appear in the square. The wind is blowing harder, leaves rustling, shaking fiercely.

Rukia smiles. Smiles because regardless of whether or not Byakuya ever notices you, Renji will always have his eyes on you. Renji will steadfastly admire you, and long for you, he’ll wait for you. No matter how much he protests that he doesn’t have feelings for you, no matter how many times he turns a stiff upper lip at your ambition, the idiot won’t give up that small flickering flame of hope that one day…

“Don’t you?” Rukia asks him, lightning reflected in her eyes as you release your built up spiritual pressure in blazing, howling columns of writhing green, purple, and blue electricity around you. It’s enough to make her knees go weak, and she grits her jaw.

Renji however stands firm, observes the light show dance around you, climb the sky in screaming torrents, wrap around you in bright strands like silk ribbons. And he grins wide, canines flashing, sparking bright with the reflections of all the lightning.

Damn you. He can’t help but admire you, appreciate your growth, your determination. Your strength and resilience.

“No. Don’t have a clue.” He replies, eyes soft as the lightning slowly dies in wisps and sharp lines of energy. He gets the feeling, that despite your hesitation to even approach the taicho, you don’t have a clue either. “Damn.” He sighs, earning a look from Rukia. A look he doesn’t bother explaining, because a second later he’s jogging across the square towards you, a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls, waving at you. Your hair flows freely, like a great billowy curtain, swaying in the breeze, and sunlight glints off your zanpaktou, casting a glare on one of your cheekbones that climbs up to your eye. Renji almost trips.

You turn in surprise, eyes wide. You hadn’t even known Renji was close by. “Lieutenant.” You greet him in dismay, thinking something must be wrong. Never had Renji engaged in conversation with you unless it was mission oriented.

“Y/N, that was amazing.” He tells you, and flaps a hand around the air, looks up in emphasis, and you blink at him. So, he had seen you training.

You sheathe your zanpaktou, glance around timidly. “Really, it wasn’t much. I’ve hardly scraped the surface of Hebunrī Sukaru.” It’s true, you’d only learned it last week, and by accident. You had pushed yourself, like you intended. But somehow, you had broken through that barrier of your spiritual pressure, gotten past that glass ceiling, and Hebunrī Sukaru had more or less burst out of you.

“Hebunrī Sukaru?” Renji repeats, hand on his chin and looks skyward, contemplating. Contemplates the lightning, the sheer energy, the robust purity and vitality of those columns of lightning, and nods. “Sounds about right.”

You brush some hair behind your ear, and peer around Renji. You could swear you sensed Rukia’s spiritual pressure a second ago. But you can’t see her anywhere, the thin strip of grass around the square is devoid of people, and you don’t think she’s hiding in any of the trees. Unlike her best friend, she had manners, and a sense of propriety.

“Anyway, lieutenant, do you need something?” You ask him, resisting the urge to twiddle your thumbs. Renji made you nervous, uneasy. You didn’t think he liked you much, and you couldn’t figure out why. You had never been mean, or rude, or disrespectful towards him. He just didn’t like you, it seemed.

Renji beams and shakes his head. “No, I just happened to be nearby, and felt a spike in spiritual pressure.” He puts his hands on his hips, glances along the ground at all the rivulets, the deep cracks, the ground hardened and brittle from the heat of Hebunrī Sukaru. “I was just curious.”

You look up at him, at his pleasant expression, the genuine smile that reveals his sharp canines, his brown eyes crinkled at the corners, and wonder if you should believe what he’s putting on display. It’s so different from what you’re used to you don’t know how to respond.

“Y/N, do you have some free time?” Renji inquires suddenly, and peers around the square, along the wooden patio dotted here and there with paper lanterns attached to the posts, and hopes the flush he feels in his chest isn’t evident on his face.

Free time? Of course, you almost always have free time. You aren’t a high-ranking seat, so you’re never horrendously busy. But, he’s a lieutenant, shouldn’t _he_ be busy?

“Yes. I was just going to spend the day training, but if you need my help with something I’d be glad to lend a hand.” You answer, swiping more fly-away hair behind an ear. You need to find your hair-tie before the day is over. It’s going to drive you nuts.

Renji smiles so bright you almost need to shield your eyes against its intensity. “Actually, I don’t need your help. You need mine.” He declares, folding his arms over his chest, the collar of his robe slipping down his broad shoulders.

“I need…your help?” you ponder aloud, scrunching your face, and he nods.

He leans down, “When was the last time you took a break, Y/N? All this hard work is going to kill you. You need to relax every once in a while.” He lectures you, managing to sound completely serious. He drops a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair, and smirks, “So, today you aren’t going to do anything.”

You gawk up at him from underneath his hand, his wrist obstructing half your view of his face. “What?”

 “You heard me. Today, I’m ordering you to be a slacker.” Renji laughs, his voice echoing off of the stone walls and open space. You frown, make to shove his wrist, when the moment you make contact he snatches your hand. “Like I said before: you need my help.”

And off he goes, pulling you along with nary a thought of your stance on this, or the fact that you’re much shorter than he is.

“Renji, slow down!” you gripe at him, stumbling towards the patio, and he cackles carelessly, keeping his pace and giant strides.

Further in the squad 6 quadrant, Byakuya Kuchiki listens to the sound of his lieutenant and his 7th seat race around the barracks like a couple of elephants. He listens to you yell at Renji, and Renji laugh. Listens until it’s completely quiet, and the both of you are gone.

Good. He was beginning to think Renji would never work up the nerve. At least now his lieutenant wouldn’t be sulking as much. Still, though, he wasn’t going to expect an increase in Abarai’s work ethic.

With a sigh, Byakuya glances over at Renji’s desk and the mountain of reports that haven’t even been looked at yet by his lieutenant. Byakuya is really hoping that you will end up rubbing off on Renji. Then, maybe things will finally get done around here.

Byakuya had noticed that lately Renji had become preoccupied, absorbed in his attention elsewhere and had slacked off considerably. And no matter how much Byakuya pressed the matter, Renji didn’t reinforce his responsibilities, only let the reins slip a little looser.

The squad six captain couldn’t put his finger on what it was that demanded all of his lieutenant’s time and dedication. That is, until Byakuya threw a garden party and invited the entirety of squad 6. It was there, in the balmy, sweetly scented air of the estate’s garden that Kuchiki learned exactly what was at the root of his lieutenant’s complacency. You.

Renji was covertly occupied with you that entire evening, always angled a certain way so that no matter who he was talking to, you were within his sights. And when Abarai wasn’t busy making a scene with his boisterous laughter, he watched you from a safe distance, above the heads of his squad members and people of stature, and sipped sake.

Byakuya noticed that night; Renji didn’t drink himself stupid. Usually, the red-haired male would take any chance he could get to drown himself in spirits. But he didn’t that night. He slowly made his way through a bottle of sake, and planted himself under a cherry blossom tree that showered beautiful pink petals in the evening breeze.

It was because you were drinking slowly. For an hour, you nursed a single glass of wine, savored it, and it garnered Byakuya’s attention for a moment: he had a multitude of alcohols readily available, stronger ones too. And nearly everyone was on their way to becoming pleasantly buzzed or embarrassingly drunk. But you weren’t, you were quietly, contentedly making your way through a simple glass of pale gold wine.

The wine worked well with the color of your emerald green kimono and the dark blue obi around your waist. Made them all pop out, draw the eye to each, made it easy to appreciate the area around you, gave the space surrounding you more focus. Byakuya hadn’t formally met you, not really. He hadn’t even laid eyes on you: when you first joined squad 6, he didn’t go out of his way to introduce himself or learn anything about you. He only knew your name.

But that night, he took a moment of his boundless time to look at you. The way you stood just on the edge of the stone square, out of the way, and removed from the bustle. You watched everyone be merry and laugh and reminisce old times, and you smiled for them. Something small, glad for other peoples’ good fortune as you timidly sipped from your sparkling glass of wine, fingers delicately holding the stem like a flower.

Your hair was done up in a series of soft, but broad twists that were allowed to flow freely down your back with the aid of a hair-pin: a silver swallowtail butterfly, bejeweled with aquamarine on the wings. Petals from the sakura trees flecked your shoulders, and dotted the curtain of your hair as it swished lightly this way and that.

It was easy to see why Renji was enraptured with you, all his duties and responsibilities eclipsed by your presence and beauty. And Byakuya realized with a start, that he was a victim of it too: without knowing, he had cut off in the middle of his sentence. Just before he had swept the garden with his gaze he was in deep conversation with another noble.

The noble made no notice of the lapse in speech, the shorter man was a fraction inebriated and wouldn’t have noticed if someone stabbed him, much less broke off of a sentence. In fact, that noble just sailed right on with the conversation, unaware of much else besides the sake in his glass and the words coming out of his own mouth.

Byakuya on the other hand, was quite aware of everything. The blurred scenery from one foot in front of him, all the way to the wall of the garden 2 hundred feet away. Everyone was a muted mess of colors, like a palette of paint over-filled, everyone except for you. You were in perfect focus. Even from so far away, Byakuya could make the smallest details of you.

The faint blush on your cheeks, the soft ghosting of make-up on your eyelids: a pale cream color to match your ensemble. The shine to your lips from either the wine or some kind of paste, the slice of shadow and light on your throat and its sweet muscles. The wondrous length of your eyelashes as they fanned down in slow, demure blinks.

All of a sudden, he felt a need, a desperate need to make your acquaintance and engage in conversation with you. But he didn’t. Against his better, but impulsive judgement, he stayed where he was. On the other side of the garden with a large crowd between you and listened to a drunken idiot talk his ear off about gods knew what.

He watched you, watched you drink your champagne down to nil, and glide over to the table of alcohols unaware all the while of his inner turmoil. His damp rage at finding Renji there, suddenly behind you. Startling you, almost making you drop your glass…Byakuya clenched his jaw at seeing Renji steady your hand with his own.

After that, he tore his eyes from you, and kept them off you for the rest of the night. And the next day, the week after that, until weeks turned into months and he could almost forget that you were around. He was certain that you and Renji would become a couple not long after that garden party, but miraculously, the two of you drifted oceans apart. Byakuya chalked it up to you rejecting Renji because his lieutenant had become a grumpy, grouchy, pouty idiot after that.

Byakuya never made an attempt to know you. Renji was pathetically hung up on you, and didn’t show any signs of giving you up. Byakuya didn’t want to get in the middle of it, no matter how many reports were left unlooked at. He was sure that whatever happened between the two of you could be worked out.

And today, he was proven right.

But…he wonders…why you never displayed any effort on your part? Why your own intentions toward Renji were muddier than a swamp, why nothing ever rose to the surface. He couldn’t tell where you stood in regards to Abarai. It didn’t seem to matter to you, the outcome of your and Renji’s relationship. Which confused Byakuya. If it didn’t matter to you, why did it matter so much to Renji?

Byakuya sighs, lays his brush down.

Why is he even thinking about any of this? It’s none of his concern…

So, then…why is he hoping that something will drive you and his fire-haired lieutenant apart? He doesn’t know his thoughts have taken a dangerous detour, but he doesn’t seem to be able to turn around. He can sense your spiritual pressure along with Renji’s, in town. A commercial district, full of shops and entertainment.

Byakuya suddenly doesn’t have the drive to finish his reports. For the first time in his life, he leaves his office with work unfinished, and he also leaves early to boot. If he’s going to disappoint himself, he might as well do a good job of it.

He doesn’t know where he’s headed, just shuts his mind off and lets his feet carry him.  The last place he wants to go is home, the estate is so large and cold. With no living relatives the estate hardly feels welcoming or warm. It’s empty to him. There’s Rukia of course, but she hardly resides at the Kuchiki estate for the reason just mentioned.

Something crunches under foot, and Byakuya glances down. A charred leaf from the training square. He picks it up. You were training earlier, before the sun rose, and stayed your course until Renji interrupted you. Three hours you were out in calm, peaceful air and atmosphere of a silent morning and trained. Byakuya arrived an hour after you, hid his spiritual pressure because he didn’t want to disturb you.

Unbeknownst to you, he had paused on his way to his office and watched from the shadowed corridor of the patio on the far end as you toiled away and mastered the release of your reiastu. He was the first one to see your success, the first one to be awed and appreciative of it. But he wasn’t the first one to congratulate you, or praise you.

He regrets that already. Sighing, he slips the brittle leaf into the sleeve of his robes and continues on his way. Idly, he wonders what the name of it was, he hadn’t heard you utter it. Did _you_ know the name of it?

Maybe one day he’ll actually speak to you. For now, he’s content to watch you grow stronger, to mature in your path, and press on. For now. Sooner or later though, he knows it won’t be enough to observe you, no, he’s too curious about you. About the simple things.

Your favorite color, your preferred drink of choice, what makes you angry, what makes you smile, things you want to change about the world, things that you want to stay the same. If you’re a morning person or a night owl, if you prefer the quiet or loud…

He wonders about you far more than he should. So, why is it that he’s the one with all the questions, no answers, and a hesitation to get to know you? Why is Renji the one that gets to drag you off into town without a moment’s notice?

And…why is he in the shopping district?

Hapless, unrestrained laughter reaches his ears, and Byakuya twitches a frown. He’d know that laugh anywhere.

“This isn’t fun, or relaxing.” You groan, a hand on your hip as you watch Renji, for the fourth time, try to catch a koi fish in a  weak paper net. Renji laughs you off, hands a few more coins to the vendor and you roll your eyes. “Seriously, Renji, I don’t need a fish. What the heck am I going to do with a koi fish? I don’t even have a pond.”

Renji frowns up at you, almost eye level despite the fact that he’s crouched on one knee. “Shut up, you totally need a fish.”

You throw your hands up with another groan. “Why?”

“Because. Now shut up, you’re going to break my concentration.”

You scoff, it isn’t you throwing off his focus: he’s screwed up before this, in spite of your silence and patience. But he’s wasted so much money on this dumb game trying to win a koi fish for you that you’ve started to feel guilty. Not to mention that you have no way to take care of said koi fish.

Like a loop, or an echo, you watch the same thing happen that you’ve been witnessing for the past ten minutes. Renji dips the net into the still waters, shadows a koi, following its movements all while slowly raising the net underneath it. And continues to raise the koi fish, slowly emerging, pulling it from the clear tank of water until finally, the net is above the water line and the white-orange speckled fish is laying limply in the paper net.

A couple seconds pass while you and Renji stare in awe and shock at his success. And then, he snaps his gaze over to you, smiling smugly, his expression screaming _I told you so_. You roll your eyes, but smile all the same as the vendor takes the fish and puts it in a bag for you.

You say nothing for a while, cradling the bag of water in hand, close to your stomach while the two of you walk down the street. It’s noisy for being so early, but you don’t mind. Your spirits are quite high, after all, you’ve pulled off and almost completely mastered using Hebunrī Sukaru. And you begrudgingly admit that this morning stroll, this careless excursion, is rather refreshing.

“Oh, wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile that big.” Renji remarks beside you, peering side-long.

“I’m smiling because this little fish right here,” you hold up the bag to his nose, and he goes cross-eyed looking at it. “Made you look like an idiot.” You giggle, and grin broader when Renji scowls, pouting a lip. You know a rebuttal is coming, so you speak again.

“But seriously. What am I doing to do with him?” You wonder, bringing the bag down, a hand underneath it. Renji ponders with a raised eyebrow,

“Can’t you just get a bowl?”

You snicker. “It’s a koi fish, not a goldfish.” You point out flatly.

“Whatever,” he pouts, flipping a hand. And then he stares pointedly at you. “Aren’t you even going to thank me?”

“For what? Winning me a problem to figure out?” You raise the fish in emphasis. “Yes, thank you. Like I don’t already have enough problems on my hands.”

Renji sighs loudly, frowns hard. “Jeez if it’s that big a deal, then give it to me.”

You stop short, and peer up at him wondering if he’s serious. “What? What are you going to do with him?” you ask, skeptical that Renji means to care for this little fella.

“Well, there’s this sushi bar not far ahead-“

“You evil bastard.” You hiss at him, and clutch the bag a little closer, protective.

Renji belts a laugh, not at all offended. He claps a hand on your shoulder, “Okay, I was just kidding. Look, we’ll go to a teahouse, get a light breakfast…” You don’t know if he’s asking your opinion or if he’s planning while he goes along, but either way, you fall silent.

After a second of your quiet gaze, he nods vigorously. “Right, maybe we can brainstorm what do with this guy while we’re there.”

You smile gently, glance down at the helpless fish in your hands, and agree. “Sounds good.”

Renji beams like the sun. “Great.”

 


	2. Lush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the little things that matter the most. The little things always lead to biggest and best things of life. You just have to be willing to take a chance on them. He's so very glad he takes a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so hard to write Byakuya in character, but it's difficult to write him love-struck. I apologize if he's OOC, but it all kind of poured out of me, and I like it the way it is.

Byakuya watches lily pads float across the surface of dark, but clean water. The pond was deeper than he meant it to be, so light doesn’t filter all the way to the bottom, meaning that the depths are shadowed harsher. Hyacinths bob near the edge of the pond, broken up and separated randomly by water reeds here and there.

The pond itself is curved, bean-shaped, and relatively large, unnecessarily so. It was spur of the moment to have the pond put into the garden. He never had any intentions of putting a pond in. But here he is, seated on a lacquered cherry wood bench, gazing at the gentle water, watching for a speckled fish to venture to this side.

Tomorrow, a bridge will be built over the pond, to traverse the center of it, through the curve. He might have a roof over it. He’s not sure yet. He doesn’t think there will be a need: no one will be around to appreciate it. He’s hardly ever home, and even he was, he wouldn’t come out here in the rain- the only real reason to build a roof over the bridge.

Idly, he twirls a brittle leaf between his fingers, the edges wrinkled and shriveled from your Hebunri Sukaru. How many days ago was it? 3, maybe four. All he knows is that at some point in that time-span you did something he couldn’t comprehend.

You talked to him. After so many months no contact, of no acknowledgement, you timidly entered his office and asked for his help. You had presented him with a bowl, and in it was a koi fish. At first, he was irritated. He knew this was the fish that Renji had won for you, and he wasn’t sure how to take it, wasn’t sure how to respond.

But then….

_“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need to ask a favor of you, captain.”_

_A favor? If it has anything to do with this fish-_

_“I have no way to properly care for this koi fish- I feel awful leaving it in a bowl.” You explain, gazing down into said bowl to frown sadly at the listless fish inside. “I don’t have the means to create a pond for him, it’s well out of my financial capabilities.”_

_It wasn’t out of his. He can see where this is going, and he’s somewhat torn. On one hand, this fish was won for you by Renji. It’s a gift of sorts, and whether you label it as such, it’s a gift with romantic intentions. Byakuya knows. Do you? You don’t seem to. Otherwise, would you be handing it off so readily. And to him, who has been nothing but indifferent to you?_

_And then, of course, there’s you. Simply asking for his help. Maybe this is the olive branch he’s been hoping for. Perhaps this is his chance to begin something. Damn. He’s going to take this fish off your hands._

_“Forgive me, but I’m making a shallow assumption based on your social standing: that you perhaps have a koi fish pond somewhere on your estate.”_

_Your assumption is wrong. He doesn’t. But he will, soon. Probably by tomorrow._

_He lays his brush aside, and looks up. The first time since you’ve walked in, and takes his good sweet time meeting your eyes. For a time, he considers the koi. It’s rather small, most likely only a couple weeks old, almost totally white with a few specks of orange dotting its tail fin and underbelly. Byakuya wonders if he means to actually care for it. The fish is a gesture of something meaningful between you and Renji._

_Does he honestly want a reminder, a visual token of the shade and depth of your and Renji’s relationship? No, but…_

_His eyes travel up, up past the pitch black of your Shinigami robes, over your collar bone barely on display, float further, until his eyes have past your slender neck, stumbled over your plush pink lips, tripped on your cheekbones and he’s fallen head first into your eyes. He gets lost easily, the color so rich, the light dancing on your irises so pleasantly it’s like stars in the daytime._

_He’ll do anything, just to be able to look upon you for a moment in his endless eternity. He’ll do anything you ask. If you’d only ask…_

_“I will take care of your koi fish.” He simply says, glad that his voice is the same steady and firm it always is. Glad that his vocal chords have given nothing away._

_He somehow manages to look unfazed and untouched when you beam brightly and thank him sweetly, truly gracious._

_What fresh Hell is he is in that he cannot openly appreciate your beauty and charm, compliment you as he’s sure Renji does. What fresh Hell._

_And then to top of his day, you offer to help him with his reports, or anything at all that he needs done. His heart tries so hard to leave his chest, leave that cavity of flesh and bone to be closer to you. That blood pumping muscle has felt so heavy lately, and only lightened in burden when you’ve been near. When he catches glimpses of you in the barracks, or going on a walk. When he hears someone say your name._

_When he thinks of you._

_Which is quite often._

_He lets you stay and help him. And sometimes when you aren’t looking, he sneaks glances. He matches your pace, slightly slower than his own, just so he can stay a few minutes longer within your presence._

Byakuya shakes his head sternly. Getting caught in daydreams, all about you. He drags his gaze through the shadowy water. The koi has disappeared.

The pond is too large for one fish. He’ll have to buy more.

“When did this get put in?”

Byakuya shifts his head a few inches, sees Rukia appear around a tall wall of water reeds. “A few days ago,” He silently measures the width of the bend, how much pond will be left to look at if he builds a bridge over it… “Two, actually.”

Rukia hums, peers at Byakuya from the corner of her eye. Rukia knows all about the pond, the need for it. She knows your koi fish in this pond. Renji shared that whole day with her, that impromptu date he took you on (Rukia is sure you don’t know it was date. She’s sure you didn’t think of it as such), the fish he won for you, the teahouse…every detail. He was practically bursting with energy.

“A new attraction for your garden parties?” she teases lightly, and crouches at the waters edge on her toes.

“No.” is all he says for a while, lets the quiet permeate and settle with the scent of cherry blossoms and the rose bushes he planted behind the bench.

Rukia ventures no further with questions, Byakuya will talk if he wants, and she has a feeling he wants to talk. Usually, Byakuya is impossible to find. You only find him if he wants to be found.

“It’s a favor.” He sighs, slips his hands into his sleeves, traversing all the inches of billowy cotton for that leaf.

“What? Since when do you do favors for people?” Rukia looks over her shoulder, but Byakuya has his eyes closed, head leaned back slightly. Afraid that he’ll give something away in his gaze, then? She wonders.

“Do you think a bridge would be redundant?” he asks out of nowhere, eyes still sealed shut, rolling the stiff leaf between his fingers. His hands are purposefully hidden. 

_You already have a bridge, you idiot._ She thinks, watching that koi fish swim into view. _Here it is. Right here, swimming in this pond that we don’t need._

“No, so long as it has a roof.” She shrugs.

She wonders who will win this race. IF anyone will win.

“Are you planning on buying more fish?” she inquires, frowning at the lethargy of this lonely koi.

Byakuya opens his eyes, observes that murky white shape slowly coast along the edge of the pond. “Yes. Though I don’t know where.”

_Oh, perfect!_ She internally cheers. “Well, where did you get this one?”

And done. Idea planted. Because he doesn’t answer. He goes quiet, somberly, coldly quiet. Because he’s agonizing, dreading on the inside.

Boundaries. He feels he’s about to cross boundaries of some sort, and he’s going to get hurt. Not someone else. Him. He feels that. Feels it in his chest like ice cold shards, stabbing him over and over.

“Is it too late in the day for a social visit, do you think?” Byakuya makes sure that leaf is secure in his sleeve before he stands.

Rukia almost squeals with how wonderful this all panning out. But she pretends to contemplate. “Depends on how far you have to go. If it’s further than your barracks, then most likely.” Was that too obvious? Does she seem suspicious?

Byakuya nods, relieved. “Then I’m leaving.” He states, and starts off toward the patio.

Rukia bites her lip to keep from cooing and crooning at the situation. She watches him disappear, smiling. She hopes things work out. She hopes they work out how they are supposed to. She’s almost torn.

Renji.

And then Byakuya.

She’d be lying if she said she couldn’t see you with either of them. You and Renji are a possibility that doesn’t even need to be stressed. He’s loud, and big, and fiery. Larger than life, and he’s tenacious. Passionate.

That would be good for you. Renji would be good for and to you.

Byakuya.

Oh…there’s so much depth there. So much potential and possibility. Byakuya is quiet, intimidating, iron-willed, stern. Talented, with colossal strength. Loyal, unerringly so. A pillar of stability and calm. Protective.

But, for a person he loves…he’s softer around the edges. Welcoming. There is no coldness to him when he’s in love. He’s far more agreeable, more apt to talk and make conversation, to be pleasant. Readily sacrifices. When he loves someone, he becomes a whole new person.

And Rukia thinks she’s seeing this new person. She thinks she just watched him leave the garden. She thinks that person is the same one that made this koi fish pond. She thinks that person…is in love with you.

Now she does squeal. Softly though, Byakuya has ears like a cat. She rubs at her cheeks, smiles some more. She wishes she could be there to watch all of this unfold, but she knows better. She sighs wistfully, almost uncertain that there is a love triangle blossoming among squad six. She’s almost positive she’s gone crazy because Byakuya is a part of that triangle.

She’s so excited for all of this. She didn’t think she was one of those women that got all starry-eyed and emotional when things like this happened. She didn’t think much of love, wasn’t too keen on warmth and softness of it, the heart melting sensations. But apparently, she was wrong about herself.

Sighing again, she drops her gaze to the pond. A cherry blossom floats on the surface, pale pink petals bright against the grey, almost black water. The koi fish is nowhere in sight. A few more petals float down, flipping and twisting in the air before the water catches them gently.

How strange. The cherry blossom trees aren’t relatively close to the pond, and the wind is hardly blowing. Oh, well. The last few days themselves have been strange.

Byakuya himself can attest to that.

Simply because, here he stands at the foothold of your room. Spiritual pressure reduced to almost nil to avoid detection. He’s a fraction embarrassed to admit that rather than walk, he flash-stepped the whole way here. He didn’t want to lose any time of this day, didn’t want to squander a moment that he might have spent on you rather than on something else.

Steadying his breath, he lifts his hand, raps his knuckles on your door a couple times and waits. He knows you’re here, he can sense you inside. He can hear you, shuffling around, toward the door, feet padding softly on your wood floor.

If only his heart wasn’t steadily becoming louder, if only it would quiet. Then he would’ve heard you apologize, explain that you had just gotten out of the shower. Maybe then he would’ve been a little more prepared for what lie on the other side of this wooden slab.

As it is, when you open the door, he’s struck dumb. You’ve managed to wrap a towel around yourself, hand fisted at the tuck of material above your breast, knuckles almost grazing your armpit.

Your blush is immediate, and bright, and full-body. “Captain?!” You squeak in shock, and inch behind your door a smidge.

For a moment, silence reigns supreme, garnered and adorned with only your red face and embarrassed flitting eyes. And Byakuya, statue-like in expression and manner, gaze locked somewhere above your head.

But a floorboard creaks somewhere down the hall, and he manages to snap himself back to the present and regains his propriety.

“Forgive me,” he says, closes his eyes and turns his head almost in the same motion, angles his body away from the door, but does it in such a way that he offers cover from passerby. No one will see you in a towel, standing in your doorway if they happen to walk past. “I didn’t mean to interrupt or inconvenience.”

You peek shyly through your lashes, tighten your hold on the towel. “Incon- No, not at all,” you say, meekly, still somewhat shaken at his appearance and this awkward situation. “You’re never an inconvenience, captain.” You assure him, and the comment is so offhand that he almost looks at you, but stops himself short at the last second remembering your lack of dress.

“But my bad timing is,” he sighs, fighting so hard to remain stoic, to remain the same shade of pale he’s always been. He isn’t looking at you, but he can see you in his peripherals, hazy around the edges. But his mind is already filling in the blanks, pushing out the fuzziness.

You watch his eyes dart here and there, fractions of inches but you see it, and you wonder if this what he looks like embarrassed? Stiff as a board, gaze unsteady, diction looser than usual, syllables and consonants lighter, airy. You hear a mumbled conversation travel around the corner, and remember where you are, who’s standing outside your door.

“No, I usually spend too long in the shower anyway. Please, come in,” You take a step back, hedge a little more behind the door, and Byakuya fidgets minutely, jaw twitching and jumping at the joint like it’s been oiled and has become loose.

He glances at you so fast you practically miss the moment he meets your eyes. “I couldn’t-“

“I’m not going to leave you out in the hallway. Please, come in and sit while I get changed.” You smile demurely, cheeks still warm, and after a second of staring at your doorjamb like it holds all of life’s answers, he nods.

You step back as the conversation from two squad members becomes clearer. One of them is Renji. Oh, jeez, he’d never let you live this down….

“I will get the door.” Byakuya tells you, and you flash him a grateful smile. He lets you patter away a few feet before he crosses the threshold, just as Renji and another soul reaper turn the corner. The door clicks shut softly, and he turns, intent to get a preliminary once-over of your room.

But you haven’t yet made it to your bedroom. Like a moth in a spider-web he’s caught. Caught staring.

More skin than is usual is on display, nothing risky, but simple bareness of things he’s always seen covered work against him.

Such as your slender ankles and small feet, the smoothness of your calves, the peek of muscles underneath the skin there, the backs of your knees and the tautness of the flesh when you plant your foot on each step. A portion of your thighs, glistening with water droplets, shiny, catching light in glints and sparkles.

He stops his eyes from traveling further up. A towel blocks his progress, but he knows he’ll be powerless to try and fabricate what lies beneath. No, he needs to sit down. Now. Clear this mist from his head. The screen to your bedroom slides shut, clicks on the track, and he hurries to settle himself on your couch.

The moment he sits down, he second guesses his reason for being here. Questions his sanity, his resolve. What is he doing here? He pinches the bridge of his nose, reprimands himself for being so brash. His reason for being here suddenly sounds so flimsy in his head. Who cares if that koi fish is lonely? It probably won’t survive that long given where it came from.

This is foolish. This is…plain stupid. He should leave before you finish changing. He plants his hands on the edge of the cushion he’s sitting on, gets ready to push himself to his feet when you emerge.

Damn! Aren’t women supposed to take hours to get ready?

“Would you care for some tea, captain?” you ask him, towel drying your hair, a simple kimono of dark purple wrapped around your slightly damp skin. A light pink obi holds it closed, tied into a quick ribbon.

Byakuya takes a moment to answer, “That would be fine,” And after you throw a sunny smile at him, he takes even longer to get off your couch. He thinks of reports, mountains of reports, busy streets, peddlers, whining, snot-nosed children…and now he can get up.

He finds you in your small kitchen, a kettle on the stove. A tiny table, able only to seat two resides in the middle of the room, and four counters take up the wall across from the archway. The stove interrupts the third and fourth, where you stand, caddy-corner from him. And he thinks he’s okay now.

You turn around, hands cradling your elbows as your arms rest against your stomach. “I think I still have some anpan from this morning. I can warm them up in the oven…” you trail off.

Abruptly, he pulls a chair out from the table and sinks down in it. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” If he’s acting strange in your eyes, he doesn’t care. He’d much less you think him bizarre rather than depraved.

But you just smile gently, and search for the anpan you had wrapped up in cloth. It’s easy enough to find, in the bread box. The stone pan you plan on placing in the oven however…

You had put that in the top cabinet. Which didn’t mean much at the time. But now you’d have to climb on top of a chair, and possibly still need to stand on the counter to reach it. Oh well. He’s your guest. You hook the back of a chair under your hand and drag it out from under the table.

Byakuya is immediately disconcerted. His upbringing demanding chivalry. “Could I be of help?” He’s on his way to standing, and you wave him off energetically.

“Oh, no, no. I have to do this all the time.” You place the chair against the counter, forgetting something important about this chair. You never use it. Because it has a wobble, one leg a few centimeters shorter than the others.

It’s intuition, a hunch, but he has a bad feeling. A niggling scratch that something will go wrong. So, he stands. “I’m much taller than you, even with that chair’s help.”

“So?” you shoot back lightly, and climb on top of the seat, immediately cursing yourself. You notice the wobble. “it’s fine.”

Regardless, he’s there in a flash, reaching for the handle of the cabinet.

“What? No.” you put a hand on the door, and glare up the few inches of difference between you. Damn, he was right. He is still taller.

“Just- please, get down before you hurt yourself.” He says, somewhere between a request and an order.

You roll your eyes. “I can handle this.”

Byakuya knows better than to argue with a woman when she has her heart set on something. He learned that the hard way. Many times over. Reluctantly, he lets go the cabinet handle, and inclines his head, _after you_.

Stupid, cocky, gentlemanly…man. You tug the door open, and frown hard at the mess of cooking utensils. You really need to re-organize your cupboards, get rid of some things…ok, where is that stone slab…

You flit your gaze, climb it up until your left staring at the top shelf. Your shoulders drop.

“I can reach that.” Byakuya informs you from just behind, and you glower.

“So can I.” you mutter, and stretch your arm up-

“This is a bad idea.”

Fingertips at the edge of the shelf.

“Let me get it.”

You touch the cool roughness of it, torso tightening with the stretch and grapple for stability.

“Y/N, this is ridiculous.”

And tug, pull…it’s caught on something, scrapes jarringly. That’s okay. Pull harder, tip it up.

Byakuya watches with a crease in his brow, the balancing act you’re putting on. You’re on tip-toes now, everything an inch away toppling.

And…yank! It out- okay, hold on to it…bring it back to your chest. Back. To. Your chest!

Down you go, flung backwards with momentum, feet out from underneath you. And you lament the loss of your stone cooking slab. It’s seen you through some years, a million meals. And it was so cheap for being so reliable.

But there’s no crash.

Byakuya can’t help but sigh, deep and long.

And you blush.

He has an arm around your front, forearm pressed to your stomach, hand and fingers wrapped and resting on your waist. And that trusty cooking utensil he has secured, just inches from your outstretched hand.

“Stubborn woman.” He scolds flatly, warm breath blown over your ear, across your damp hair.

And you don’t know what to do. So you say the first thing that jumps to your tongue. “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

Byakuya lowers his hand, offers you the very thing that landed you in his arms. “In this case, I think it might be a redeeming quality.”

Dumbly, you take it from him, and count the seconds until he lets you go. 1…2…3. His fingers slither, linger for contact on their retreat, and you try not to shiver. But you do.

If he notices, he doesn’t remark on it. “If there’s anything else on a high shelf that you need, I’d like to know.” He sounds like he’s scolding, leaving no room for argument.

You turn on your chair, mouth open to throw a snappy rebuttal at him, but you stop short. He has a hand outstretched, meaning to help you down. You frown limply. “I am not that clumsy,” You protest, but you take his hand anyway. However you can steal contact, you will.

“I’m not too keen to believe that statement, considering…” Byakuya hesitates, but inches a small smile.

Dear lord, you go weak in the knees. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him smile, but here he is, in your tiny, quaint kitchen looking…human.

You’re properly dazed, and he doesn’t hold it against you. He knows he acts as about emotional as a blank statue. You haven’t let go of his hand, if anything, your grip has tightened on it. “Where are your tea cups?” he inquires softly, and the question is enough to bring you back.

You side-step, and face the counter, placing the stone cooking sheet down. “Don’t worry, I can reach-“

“I’ve heard that before.” He interrupts, and you snap your gaze up, look left. He’s at the other end of the counter, opening a cabinet. No doubt looking for tea cups.

“You’re kind of rude, you know?” you mutter at him, and he smiles again, lips quirked the barest amount.

“You’re clumsier than you think you are.” He shoots back, grabbing two plain porcelain cups. There a few with handles, but he ventures that those are used for special occasions, so he takes the ones without.

“You hardly know me.” You point out, keeping up banter, but he falls oddly quiet, that tiny smile gone. Wiped from his face so fast it was like it was never there to begin with. Your heart falls, but you place the anpan on the stone, and prepare to apologize.

“That is true.” He admits, standing stiff at the counter, staring down into the empty depths of a tea cup. He looks morose, his shoulders a few degrees lower, chin almost tucked to his chest. You pause where you are, holding the edge of the stone sheet, wondering if he’s going to say more.

You wonder if you should say something, you don’t like seeing him so down. You force a smile. “It’s probably my fault, I don’t tend to socialize or meet new people,” You open the oven, place the sheet on the lowest rack. “I’m a bit of a shut-in.” You shrug, closing the door.

Byakuya doesn’t say anything. Listens to you adjust the dial on the oven, and curses himself. He can’t believe you’re blaming yourself for his blunder. How selfless of you and how selfish of him. How cowardly. He takes a breath, wishing it would cleanse him of his regret, and puts the cups on the table.

“You’re not a shut-in. You go for walks frequently, and often join the squad members for celebratory feasts, and always attend festivals,” He toys with his cup, standing next to his chair. He feels more secure standing. Maybe because of your height difference. You’re quiet, listening intently and it makes him nervous. “I had countless opportunities to talk to you, to get to know you and I let each instance pass like sand through my fingers…” He rubs at the rim of his cup, cleaning an imaginary spot. His chest feels tight, his head fuzzy, and all his limbs feel like rusted iron. But he exhales the staleness of all the truth hidden in him.

He puts his cup down, leaves it down. “I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” He stares rigidly into the living room.

You stare, wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape. What he’s saying…sounds suspiciously like a confession. You feel woozy. You lean against the stove, a hand on your forehead. “What?” is all you manage to whisper, mostly to yourself.

Byakuya glances at you, takes a moment to assess the state you’re in, and hesitantly makes his way over. “Ever since that garden party I threw….” He eyes the tea kettle, a few inches from you, warily.

“Garden party…” You repeat, thinking back. Back through the weeks until you can find the date. And when you do, the breath rushes out of you. “Six months ago?”

Byakuya places a hand on your shoulder, grounds you in the moment. “Yes. I could’ve- I wanted to approach you then. But I didn’t.” he murmurs like it’s a secret, a shameful secret, and to him it is. If it wasn’t, why would he feel so guilty about letting you know, why would he lament the state he’s put you in, the speechlessness, the shock.

“Why?” you ask, and blink a few times to ward off the puzzlement, the surprise of all of this. “Why didn’t you?”

Byakuya’s mind reels back. What do you mean, why? Shouldn’t it be obvious to you of all people? He feels strange having to explain the plain and simple. You finally look up at him, hand dropped to rest on the edge of the stove, your gaze steady, curious, and patient.

“You and Abarai…” he trails off, letting the words die. It would leave a bitter taste in his mouth to say anything more.

You squint up at him, and peer long and hard. He starts to look uncomfortable, looks pained, and emotionally hurt, and you realize-

“Oh, God, no.” you shake your head, and start to smile. “No. Renji and I were never-“ you break off to chuckle a bit, lick your lips. “We aren’t together.” You finish.

Byakuya feels foolish for a completely different reason. He casts his gaze off at the wall past your head, heaves a sigh. All that time…how could he have misread the situation so poorly? “This is embarrassing.”

You laugh, and reach up to lay your hand on his over your shoulder. “No, no it’s not-“

“I spent a small fortune to create a pond for one koi fish…” He closes his eyes, lets a humored, sarcastic smile inch his lips wider.

You snort a laugh, squeeze his hand.

“All so I could lie about their rarity and ask where you bought it- I am a stupid man.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so flattered.”

“Don’t mock.” He border-line groans, regards you cooly, and you bite a smile.

“No, really.” The kettle hisses and screams next to you, and you pick it up. But Byakuya takes it from you, something about boiling liquids and you makes him cautious. You don’t protest as he takes it over to the table and places it on a stand. “I owe that koi fish immensely.”

Byakuya trains his green eyes on you. “How do you mean?”

You fold your arms over your chest, grin. “Well, if not for him, I don’t really think you’d be standing in my kitchen today.” His eyebrows raise the slimmest amount at the statement as he ponders. While he does, you get an oven mitt and take out the anpan.

“Then I suppose that fish was worth every coin.” Byakuya muses, bypasses you as you place the sheet on the table, and snatches up the other chair. He isn’t going to let you sit on a rickety chair, who knows what could happen?

It’s a few moments later when you’ve both settled with your tea and the events of the evening that something occurs to Byakuya. “You haven’t said how you feel about me.” He can’t believe he missed something so important.

Your eyebrows pop up, cup mid-way to your lips. He has a fair point. Somehow, you both just ghosted over it in the moment. But of course he would like to know, he deserves that. You lower your tea, wrap your hands around the warm porcelain.

“The only reason I went to that garden party was to see you. The only reason I celebrated with other squad members was because I thought maybe you’d be there. And…” Here’s the biggest admission,

“The only reason I train as hard as I do is because I hoped to one day be worthy of your time. Not much recognition for a seventh seat…” you sip at your tea, eyes trained on the sweet rolls in front of you.

“I’m a stupid man.” He repeats from earlier, apology in his tone now. “You were always worthy of my time, I was just too cowardly to give it to you.”

You hum. Smile secretively, “I always figured it was just that you were too busy…but now that I know you’re a coward...”

He ‘hmph’s at you, smiles around the rim of his cup. “You forgot to turn the stove off.”

“What?!” you hop out of your seat, rush to the stove. And frown. It isn’t even on.

“Don’t worry. I turned it off.” Byakuya tells you, an inch behind you, and you burst a breath through your nose.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, those giant sleeves cascading down your front, and you simply settle for reaching back to grab some fabric around his thigh.

“You’re kind of rude, you know?” you loll your head, turn it so you can look up, cheek on his chest.

“You’re clumsier than you think you are.” He says, already fond about it, and gazes warmly at you. “Thank God for that.”

You pout. “Stupid man.” And turn in his arms, liking the way they shift and lower, encircle tightly but with comfort.

“Stubborn woman.” He quips back, lacking venom or authenticity.

You grip at the black layer of his captain’s robes, and tilt your head back. Idly, you wonder if those three sections of hair that fall on his face ever bother him, but as you reach up on tip-toes to get closer you realize you don’t care.

Not when his arms clutch you harder, and drag you up as he leans down. No, nothing else really matters at that moment other than the feeling his lips on yours, the softness of them, the warmth and break of breath as he slants and dips and works the kiss into something open and firm.

You sigh at the feeling as well as you can. You could kiss him until your heart stops. Or at least until tomorrow. But he only gives you a few more seconds before he’s breaking away, trailing his mouth up and over to your temple to press a long kiss there.

You hum at the sweet feeling, and turn your head, tip your chin to find his lips again, but he chuckles and stands straight. Far out of your reach. You almost pout when your feet touch the floor, tighten your hold on his Shihakusho and send him a curious look.

“It’s getting late, I shouldn’t stay much longer.” He brushes some slightly damp hair over your ear, reluctant to leave regardless of the fact that he will see you tomorrow.

You sigh achingly, “You’re so mean,” you mumble, disentangling your fists from his robe. You smooth the material down, missing the amused look he shoots at you. “To kiss me like that and then leave after.”

“I know,” he closes his eyes with a smile, loosens his grip on you. “I’m absolutely heartless.”

You stay close as he heads to the door, addicted to his warmth and his scent (cherry blossoms, what else?), and the space he takes up in your small room, the way he makes everything else seem inconsequential.  

You pause in the doorway, heart whining. You don’t want him to go, you’d barely gotten to bask in his presence. You still want to know what his hair would feel like running through your fingers, what his skin tastes like- though you have a guess on that -you want to know-

“We have plenty of time,” Byakuya says, a perceptive look in his eye. “There’s no need to rush things.”

You fold your arms over your chest, lean a hip on the wood frame. “You almost sound convincing.” You tease, inching a smirk.

Byakuya shakes his head minutely, battles down his own smile. “Goodnight, Y/N.” And starts off down the hallway, silently, somehow missing all the floorboards that creak. He disappears around the corner, and you inhale a deep breath, a hand on your chest.

What a crazy day you’ve had.

The best kind of crazy there is.

Easing out an airy breath, you close the door, lean against it and smile, cheeks warm. You press your hands to them, close your eyes and hum contentedly, brush your fingertips over your lips that still tingle from that kiss. Your heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings, emotions making your blood sing, and you let out a small giggle.

You’re so giddy, you don’t think you’re going to be able to sleep tonight.

A knock on the door has you jumping, yelping in surprise. Who could possibly be knocking on your door this late? Maybe Renji, he has no idea what manners are, bothering someone during the night wouldn’t be unheard of for him.

Running a hand through your hair, you turn and grab the knob. You’ll just send whoever it on their way, you don’t want to entertain any guests right now. You want to relive the last few minutes in the solitude of your room.

The door is barely opened an inch before it’s pushed completely open by the person on the other side. You’re almost outraged until you see who it is.

“Captain?” The day just keeps getting stranger. Didn’t he say he was leaving, that he couldn’t stay? You open your mouth to ask him what he’s doing when he swoops down and captures your mouth with his own. You squeak against his lips, surprised.

But when his hand sneaks around to the back of your neck and tilts your head, you go blissfully limp in thought. You stretch, reach, try to get as close as you can, hands and arms sliding up his chest and shoulders to wrap around his neck. You don’t care about the open door, don’t care about who might walk by.

He rumbles a hum of contentment, ducks down to hold you around the waist, forearm pressed to your lower back. And kisses you languidly, slowly, but so strong and heady, pulls you flush against him. You sigh, high and tight, and he nibbles at your bottom lip.

He tastes like the tea and sweet rolls you made.

“Could I stay-“ He starts, talking against your mouth, each word a tiny kiss of its own.

“Please.” You murmur, leaning back in.

Byakuya doesn’t say anything more, just kicks the door closed and kisses you goddamned senseless until you’re putty in his arms. And then he kisses you some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter. *sigh* Take it easy, lovelies. Life is rough.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wish I had plan, but anymore when I write, it's like a sticky, abstract spider web of half-put together ideas that desperately cling to each other in miniscule light-weight threads. It's an exhausting thing being so inspired, but inhibited by the sheer amount of possibility within that inspiration. TOO MANY IDEAS. NOT ENOUGH TIME.   
> (None of this proofread, forgive any mistakes, if you'd be so kind)


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